Lights On
by Eliza Darling
Summary: When Hux lets Rey in on a secret talent he's been hiding for years, he thinks of it as letting himself be vulnerable around her, that he trusts her enough for her to keep it, too. Rey thinks a few people knowing of such talent will boost his confidence. Little does she know, she's just opening up a terrible can of worms, and the consequences that come with it.
1. Chapter 1

**Hahahah, I keep telling myself I wouldn't do another multi-chaptered thing but here we are again. Then again this is going to be a shorter one, probably no more than ten chapters. And, given I love writing for Hux, there will definitely be a lot more Hux-centric chapters than I usually do.**

 **Basically this is the plot to the "Lights On" video. And if you haven't seen it yet, you're in for a pleasant surprise.**

" **She Keeps My Mind Calm, Getting a Lot Done"**

It started with a text: " _Meet me at Guitar Center_."

The last conversation they'd had contained something far more mundane: " _Can I get a ride to work?_ ", to which Hux replied, " _Sure, it's on the way._ ", and Rey responded, " _Thanks. I love you._ "

This was two days after that. Rey, fresh from making coffee for ungrateful white collars and bearded hipsters, read the text, sent half an hour ago, with wide eyes. Guitar Center? They passed by it all the time at the mall, Hux gazing away from it, completely disinterested. So why did he want to meet there, of all places?

" _Sure. Omw._ "

She didn't think too much of it as she gathered her bag, apron string hanging out as she made her way across the few blocks it took to get to the mall. Her boss could complain all he wanted about the public preferring the likes of Starbucks and Peet's and such, but even he couldn't deny that most people just wanted some goddamn caffeine, and in a pinch they'd settle for anything. Besides, she liked their local nights, their open mics and artists from the area hanging paintings from the walls. On those nights, people tended to be more laid back, wanted their coffee in ceramic mugs to enjoy themselves, rather than be in an angered hurry.

Rey tucked her apron string deeper in her canvas bag as she entered the mall, refreshed by the cooling AC on this warm evening. And she could notice the slicked back, red hair and lanky stance of her boyfriend anywhere. Here he was, standing tall and rigid before the store like it held some deep, important truth within. It was a Guitar Center. How did its mere presence make her boyfriend so stiff?

"Hey," she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek, and he jumped. Raising a brow, Rey stepped back, unsure what to think. "Did you want to show me something?"

"I—" It sounded like his mouth went dry. Rey took in Hux's wide, green eyes, and noticed his pale hands clenched into fists, before she reached her own hand down to try and soothe him. They didn't have to do this if he didn't want to. Or feel ready to? "I do," he finally answered, his hand clammy as his fingers wrapped around hers. He still hadn't looked over at her.

"All right." She kept her voice light, optimistic as he led her inside the store. He held his head low, probably to hide some sort of flush that grazed his face. She, however, found it cute when he blushed; it happened so rarely that she kind of savored it. No one seemed to notice them… so why try to be so secretive?

Hux stopped her right before the sheet music section. Even still, he hadn't looked over at her, only squeezed her hand tighter. "Pick three. I'd prefer different genres, if you don't mind."

"Okay. Weirdo," she uttered affectionately, only letting go of Hux's hand to peruse. Did he secretly play the guitar or something? A voice she rarely heard? He _did_ sing, on occasion, and he sounded wonderful, but he'd never kept it a _secret_. The sheet music to _La La Land_. Disney Hits, Vol. 2. And perhaps something classical… Mozart always seemed like a good option, right? She held them up to Hux, peeking right behind the tops of the books. "And…?"

"Come on." Hux took her hand again, leading her again, past the guitars and other string instruments. All right, so no secret guitar talent. And past percussion, which she figured he wouldn't go for anyway.

All around them, people played with and screwed with the instruments, either as potential customers or just there to waste a bit of time. Everyone, from the kid banging on the conga drums to the old man checking prices on different bass strings, looked happy to be there.

Everyone except Hux, who led them past the elaborate keyboards and toward the baby grand pianos toward the back of the store, where hardly anyone seemed to breach, given their higher prices. Rey noted how quickly they walked, like he wanted to get this over with as soon as possible, whatever it was.

Finally he sat her down at the bench of a baby grand piano, wondering what made this one better than all the other ones. "Hux…?" He still hadn't answered any of the millions of questions racing through her head—she was just blindly going along with this, even though it was… odd, to say the least.

"Place anything in front of me. Make it a surprise."

And usually she liked the commanding tone he took on, but it seemed a bit off. Rey flipped through the Disney book, out of pure curiosity, and landed on something that seemed the most complicated. And she knew Hux hadn't seen most animated Disney classics—it'd taken up until they started living together before he'd even seen her favorite, _Cinderella_. Of course, what she put in front of him was from _101 Dalmatians_.

Hux took a deep breath, looking over the notes once before his long fingers grazed the keys.

And Rey's jaw _dropped_ the moment he started playing. She was sure he hadn't watched the movie, or even heard the song. Yet he played it so _perfectly_ , at the right tempo, with the same, jazzy feeling she remembered from her childhood. She didn't know where to look: his gorgeous, long fingers playing beautifully, flying over the keys, or his concentrated eyes, hardly looking down at what he was playing, like the instrument was just an extension of himself. Where did this talent even come from?

She wanted to know _everything_. The song seemed to be over before she could remember to think, and he sighed, like it was a terrible labor, instead of this incredible talent he'd been hiding from her this whole time. Rey didn't realize she was still gaping until she tried to speak.

"You… you play?" was all she could squeak out, stupidly.

"Next piece," he goaded instead, gesturing for her to replace the piece. Nodding, Rey silently replaced the jazz piece with Mozart, just a random page, given she had completely forgotten which sonatas or waltzes were which. But this one Hux hardly looked at, like he'd had to memorize it in the past, but he still played with incredible feeling, with this incredible sadness. It was like every emotion he'd ever felt, he could only convey with this instrument. All the times he wouldn't open up, he kept it bottled in, _this_ was him letting himself go, letting it all out.

Rey had never loved Hux more until this moment, having him trust her enough to let himself be so vulnerable around her.

When he finished, Rey was stuck in between wanting to kiss his brains out (in public, he probably wouldn't appreciate that, but the second they got home, that could be a different story), or just bringing out every single piece in the store to see if he could play them all. But he looked over at her expectantly, wanting the third piece. And she hadn't really said much yet. Neither had he.

"Mia and Sebastian's Theme," from _La La Land_. Rey _knew_ Hux hadn't seen the movie, given she went with Finn when it came out, and Hux dismissed it as "Oscar-bation." Honestly, he wasn't wrong, but it didn't stop her from loving the music. But Hux still played it just as she'd heard it in the movie, when she listened to the soundtrack after. Maybe even better. She couldn't explain the melancholy feeling he seemed to put into all his playing was simply… heartbreaking. Breathtaking. He could even play the breakdown upon first glance. This was something _prodigal_. Yet why had she never even known about this?

Rey didn't realize she was close to tears until he finished—only because she was so moved. Who was this man? She wanted to get to know this side of her boyfriend. This _wonderful_ side to him.

Hux finally looked over at her with this anxious look in his eyes, and Rey knew he'd just bared his soul to her… and she hadn't said anything, given she was so _floored_ by such talent it took her mere breath away. She took a deep breath, then grinned up at him, reaching over to wrap her arms around him tight. "That was incredibly beautiful," she uttered against his neck. After a few moments, he placed his hands on her waist, squeezing gently, like he wasn't expecting the compliment.

"You did?" He sounded more relieved than anything. How was she ever going to hate something so wonderful? No, this talent needed to be shared!

"Of course." Rey pulled back, moving her hands up to cup his face. "You play so beautifully. I don't know why you'd hide something so great."

"I suppose it's a bit silly, keeping it in for so long," he confessed, sighing. There was more to this story, but Rey figure this probably wasn't the best time to ask. They were still in the middle of a store, after all. "I just wasn't sure how you'd take it."

"With an open heart," she assured, her grin dimming down to a warm smile. "I know it's cheesy, but you more than anyone need to hear that. You don't have to hide yourself with me."

"I haven't played in years, to be honest," he said, looking down a moment. Rey couldn't believe that, even apparently out of practice, he picked it back up like he had never left. How was he still so good? Why would he ever be embarrassed of something so wonderful? "I'm surprised… it's still all there."

"I thought you'd been secretly playing behind my back," she teased, nudging him with her shoulder. "I'm surprised it's stayed with you for so long without practice."

Hux shrugged. "I wanted to know if you liked it… that way, perhaps I'd get more into it again. To play for you, if you're okay with that."

"Yes," she replied immediately, her eyes wide. She'd never said yes to anything so quickly—even quicker than when he asked if she wanted to move in. "I would absolutely love that." His place certainly had enough room. She could see it placed by the window, overlooking the rest of the city. She imagined him playing in the middle of those long nights, getting whatever feelings he couldn't express out. She imagined coming home to him playing quietly.

She had to get him confident enough to play for others. This talent shouldn't just be for her, just for them. This was a _gift_ , that needed to be shared.

"Alright." Hux took a deep breath, standing. He wiped his hands on his jeans, before holding his hand out for Rey to take. "Let's get a piano."

 **So this HC for Hux came from me watching _Frank_ multiple times and loving that Domhnall's character plays piano (albeit not well). I know this is just an intro for now, but things are definitely going to get a lot more interesting as everything unfolds.**

 **Also it's still pre-midnight as I'm posting this, so please take this as a Valentine's Day gift! Hope it's Reyux-filled and awesome.**

 **As always, reviews and comments are greatly appreciated.**


	2. Chapter 2

**This took a lot longer than expected to get out, mostly because I went back and edited the crap out of it. Writing about Hux's past excites me maybe just a bit too much? Actually, scratch that. Writing for Hux always makes me happy.**

 **Anyway, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!**

 _ **Lights On**_

 **Chapter 2: "Even Though You Don't Know My Name, Me and You Bleed Exactly the Same"**

Every terrible memory came back the moment the piano entered their apartment. Rey clapped with giddy joy at the prospect of hearing him play, but she had no idea about every strike his knuckles took for every wrong note he played, all the times Brendol or Maratelle smacked him upside the head for playing anything other than an original composition or the classical greats.

Then his mother got involved in his interests and, as always, Brendol stopped caring.

Of course, Hux did not feel ready to tell Rey much of anything when it came to his past. Her greatest asset was never asking again after he shot down any interest she had in his past. His past, he felt, should have nothing to do with her, his future, and luckily she respected that. She noted his apprehensive stance, but said nothing as the piano was installed. Her hand held his, and that was enough to get him to calm down a bit, to remember that _he_ had chosen to bring this back into his life again.

"This is so exciting!" she exclaimed, kissing his cheek.

The decision came from, as always, this care for Rey he'd never felt for anyone else. He came home early, just as she was getting ready for a closing shift at the coffee shop, when he heard her sing carelessly in the shower. Admittedly, it was to a piece of bubblegum pop he didn't care for, but Rey could be singing in an entirely different language and it would have been beautiful. Sure, he could point out a few technical errors, but it was the first time where, as she sang, he so easily pictured every note, and in his mind he quickly transcribed an arrangement to accompany her, like the talent had never left.

She gasped when she emerged from the shower, the pop princess in the background still going on about love or something of the sort, only wearing a towel on her head. "You're home early," she uttered meekly, her face flushing furiously. Of course, he knew she only blushed due to the singing, not her nudity.

Hux smirked, pulling her in by the waist after placing his work bag down. "You truly surprise me," he replied instead, pressing a kiss to her jaw. "You shouldn't hide such a beautiful talent."

So Rey sang every once in a while, if it was just to a song on the radio, or a bit of a hum while making dinner. Sometimes she joined one of her friends for those useless Open Mic nights at her store, a handsome fellow whose name he couldn't remember, and the only one, Hux could tell, showed any real potential with that guitar and voice of his. If she could exert that confidence afterward, and if she was the first real positive trigger for what he used to do, maybe it was time to play again.

Of course, he hadn't expected the memories to come flooding back in a heinous wave of pain and regret.

When the installers left with their tip, Hux ran his fingers over the keys, taking a deep breath. Rey rested her head on his shoulder, just briefly. "I _really_ wish I didn't get called in to work," she sighed. "If I could just sit here and listen all day, I'd be satisfied."

Hux took one of her hands and pressed a kiss to her wrist. "You're the only barista worth a damn," he assured. Besides, he didn't want her to know this, but he kind of _needed_ the time alone, to get used to it. To have Rey there, much as he appreciated her… she just didn't get just how huge a deal this was. He had to downplay all the strange emotions running through his system.

Her phone dinged. "Ah, that's my ride." Sighing again, she kissed him briefly. "I'll see you tonight."

When she shut the door, Hux finally slumped, contemplating what to play, _how_ to play. He remembered his small fingers struggling to stretch to play octaves at the ripe age of three, remembered that he could read music before he could read English (then French at five, then Spanish at seven, much to his father's chagrin as he learned the language of "the help"). This instrument, this extension of himself, could express feelings his father never let him wear. The sadder the song, the _angrier_ —he played it in double forte, usually a bit faster than intended.

When he bought the piano, he'd asked Rey to pick out a few books to help him warm up. She of course picked Disney, Adele, the _La La_ Land songbook, contemporary things. He also decided to pick up a book on Glenn Miller, and one on Benny Goodman for good measure, even if he wasn't playing in a big band (or the clarinet, in Goodman's case).

The first thing he'd ever wanted to play outside of classical occurred when a housekeeper put on a Disney movie to entertain him before his father came home. He didn't care much for the British puppies or the strange way everything was drawn, but when the main character, a composer, played so _freely_ … his eyes glazed over, mouth agape, mesmerized by the flashy villain song. As he listened, he could picture how to play it. He could _learn_ this freedom, when all he knew was Tchaikovsky and Beethoven. Masters in their own rights, but he could only take so much.

"What _is_ this?" he'd asked in Spanish, his eyes glazing over. "I really like it."

The housekeeper's eyes widened as a small Hux scrambled to rewind the tape to listen to the song again. And again. And again, his eyes mere centimeters from the screen. He wished they would all stop talking so he could _listen_ to the song. By the fifth time he had blank sheet music in his hand, jotting down the notes.

" _Ay_ , _mijo_ , not so close!" she scolded, trying to pull him back to a more reasonable distance. "You're going to ruin your eyesight!"

Father must not know what he was doing. He wasn't allowed to watch cartoons, only documentaries. Even his timid mother followed this rule.

Whenever he was left alone, he'd try to play the song as quietly as he could, so he could hear the front door opening and immediately hide the sheet music in his pockets. Jazz music, it was called, when he asked his piano teacher about it, a stuffy old man who turned his nose up at the word. Hux, however, liked the way it sounded.

He'd only gotten caught once at the piano playing the forbidden music, his fingers moving quickly the moment he memorized the song in its free entirety. Still, it sounded so rehearsed, not as loose as the recording for the movie. Maybe he was playing louder than usual, because when he finally looked up once to jot down a note he thought he'd missed, he jumped at the sight of his father's associate, the intimidating Rae Sloane, standing off to the side, her arms tightly crossed across her chest. It was up until then Hux had completely forgotten about the dinner his father was hosting for colleagues and private donors of the company, and tonight was the _worst_ possible night to be practicing jazz music, when he was sure Father would make him play some ambient classical pieces for such important people.

"You're Brendol's boy," she'd observed, stepping closer. In the quiet room, the clicking of her heels echoed, enough to make the hair on the back of Hux's neck stand up straight.

"Y-yes, ma'am," he'd replied timidly, fighting to maintain eye contact, her brown eyes perceiving him critically. Even at this young age he realized what his bastard status meant. Sloane hadn't mentioned anything about Maratelle.

As she approached, Hux sat up straighter. "Will you tell Father what I was playing?" He didn't think his voice would come out so tiny, but the way she held herself, in her sharp pantsuit, made her seem far taller than she actually was.

"No." The response surprised him; what surprised him even more was the assuring hand she placed on his shoulder, squeezing lightly. "You shouldn't have to hide such a talent, but that's Brendol for you."

He didn't think anyone really understood how he felt when it came to how he played, but she hit the nail on the head. It turned out she arrived first, before Brendol and Maratelle even got back from running a last-minute errand. "Continue playing."

So Hux did, and he enjoyed Sloane's nods, her hums of approval, of thinking through how he played, _why_ he played. She could tell he actually enjoyed this, squeezing his shoulder again when he finished.

When Brendol came home, Sloane pretended like Hux had played a classical concert for him, but when she got him alone after he'd played through their dinner, she murmured, "I can tell, you hate the stuffiness of what Brendol makes you play. Learn how to play more of what you love."

And there was only one person who would help him out to find more.

Hux sat at the bench, remembering one of the old exercises he used to do to warm up. After cracking his knuckles, he started his scales, each change of key easily coming back to him like it never left. The notes flew, all nearly perfect, suited for his long fingers.

As a child, he spent one weekend a month with his mother, a golden-haired angel with a safe haven in a small flat just outside the city. Ari would sweep him away from his stuffy school with open arms, let him eat the things he wasn't supposed to (usually the new pastries she experimented with), let him wear whatever he wanted outside his strict uniform and slacks. Her flat was smaller than half a wing of his father's mansion, yet it felt more like home than anything with its burnt kettle and slightly propped windows. He had his own room, a cozy little place where she let him pick out the dinosaur sheets and hang his sheet music freely. She introduced him to Billie Holliday and Tommy Dorsey when he asked what "Jazz" was, opening him up to a world he never knew.

On Saturdays Ari liked to take him to the music store, since she couldn't afford a piano for him on her own, and let him pick out what he wanted to play. She'd sit beside him on the bench and watch him play with a look of pride he'd never seen directed toward him.

Even when he messed up, and waited for her to scold him, she never did. "That was beautiful, my love," she always complimented, sweeping her hair effortlessly over her shoulder.

"But I messed up on the third stanza," he'd point out. "And the seventh. And I was a bit late on the coda."

She'd kiss the top of his head, wrapping an assuring arm around his shoulders. "Do you think all the great Jazz artists cared about perfection? It's all about the _freedom_. It's about playing through the mistakes like they never happened, or that they were intentional."

Hux enjoyed the advice, but it was so different than what he'd been taught, where he'd be punished if he even _thought_ of playing a wrong note. Everything he played for his father had to be clean, precise. The timing had to be perfect, as did the pedal work. But his mother would take him out for tea and baking supplies, then they'd go home and he'd help her whip up something in the kitchen. Those were the only times during his childhood where he ever smiled.

Without his mother, Hux probably wouldn't have been so open to Rey's charms, when their paths crossed.

Hux hated Starbucks. He hated the lines and the hacks trying to peddle their milkshakes as "coffee" with excessive sugar (and no concept for what a _real_ macchiato was). Sure, there was one at the base of the office building, but going out of the way to this hole in the wall independent store downtown took the same amount of time as waiting in line with coworkers. And he didn't hate himself afterward.

He took a chance on it when his mother boasted that the store started to buy her baked goods to sell to the public, meaning he had to support it in some way, at least her pastries. He'd grown up thinking they were the best in the world (probably because they were the _only_ sweets he'd ever been allowed to consume), and those first few times he'd despised the coffee, drinking it anyway just to have _some_ sort of caffeine in his system.

"Why do you tolerate it, then?" Phasma asked, her arms crossed tightly over her broad chest.

Hux shrugged, chugging at it anyway. She didn't know much about his mother, and Hux planned to keep it that way. "The line is shorter" was his only excuse.

Then there was Rey.

At first, Hux never even noticed her, thinking she probably had just written his cup down and warmed up his mother's pastries for him. He recalled passing by her three buns and thinking them odd, standing out in a way he didn't think flattering. He remembered her being the only barista to actually spell his name right (with the others stupidly jotting down "Hucks").

"And your name?"

"Hux." He was in too much a hurry to try and get it right, his eyes still glued to his phone.

"Got it, thanks," she replied with a wide smirk, taking his cup to the bar to start steaming the milk.

He didn't look up from his phone until she called his name, and it sounded like he was hearing it for the first time. Hux would have spent the rest of the day obsessing over his voice, but he instead obsessed over the flourish with which she wrote his name: "Hux," with an aggressive cross on the "x" that he… _liked_. "You spelled it right," he commented, and though he was trying for an indifferent tone, it sounded legitimately confused.

Her smirk returned, this time with a playfulness he'd never seen directed toward him. "With the look of disdain on your face every time we make your coffee, I was sure that was the case. I like it, though. Very… direct. Unique."

Usually his name evoked fear from people who knew his father, and his first name was only said with a hint of disappointment (his mother being the only exception). Dumbfounded, he searched for the name on her apron, hoping she didn't take it as him gazing at her (admittedly) flat chest. "Rey," the tag embellished with a small, juvenile daisy drawn beside it.

"Thank you, Rey, I suppose." She handed him his pastry, and for once it didn't taste like complete crap.

In fact, it never seemed to taste right until Rey and _only_ Rey served him. So, if she happened to work that morning, he'd casually ask if she'd make his drink, to the point where if she saw him coming, she'd be poised with a cup, ready for anything. Sometimes he'd try to change things up, asking for something complicated every once in a while, to see if she could keep up.

"Soy half-caf, twenty-ounce latte, aerated for exactly seven and a half seconds, one pump of vanilla, one pump hazelnut on top," he said, just to be annoying. It would taste like crap, he was sure.

"You call that a real challenge?" she replied, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. But she got to it right away, with the same enthusiasm as all his over-the-top orders. Rey must have had some sort of magic touch, only because she _never failed_ and always made his coffee taste _good_. It reminded him of how his mother could take such simple ingredients and make them all work together in such inventive ways. He started to leave tips for Rey, and, when he finally looked up from his phone to get a good look at her, he realized if he didn't ask her out, someone would snatch her up in the blink of an eye.

Really, playing the piano again shouldn't have come to him so easily. His fingers hitting the keys with nary a mistake _scared_ him, especially given it'd been well over ten years since he even attempted to practice. The reminiscing, though, with tuning out his playing, seemed to help.

One lunch hour, when Hux decided on a whim to _not_ spend it crunching on a flavorless salad in an office space prepping for a board meeting, he found himself wandering to her coffee shop, heart pounding. He'd been thinking about this for weeks: her stupid three buns and her twinkling hazel eyes, her wide mouth and even wider smile. The freckles that adorned the entirety of her face. She was poor, she was sweet.

She was everything his father wouldn't have wanted in a wife for his son, and that was the final determining factor that he needed to at least _try_. By this point of the day there were a few regulars getting their midday coffee, and the lurkers wrote their unfinished screenplays and novels at all the window seats, the sun shining through being the only daylight they were bound to experience.

Rey saw him and bounded to the counter, ready to take his order. "Hux!" she exclaimed, the first time anyone besides his mother was excited to see him. "Are you here for some early afternoon java?"

He could do this. He could do this. Maybe she wouldn't laugh when she rejected him, would let him down with a condescending pout and he would never try to come here again. "Just a regular latte, please," he requested. If he overwhelmed her with a date proposal while she made his coffee, it might taste terrible. He paid, then he waited, watching her hands as she brewed the espresso and steamed the milk without a second though, letting it be second nature.

"Here you go," she replied, and before he could pay, she stopped him. "On the house. You were already here this morning and it's no problem."

"Thanks." When he didn't leave, she curiously leaned more over the counter.

"Hux, can I help you with anything else?"

Now or never. He could do this. "Actually, there's a rather nice steakhouse a few blocks away that just opened. I find myself with a reservation there Friday night at eight with no one to go with." A lie. The waitlist was a mile long. But the owner was one of his father's colleagues; he could get a table there without a problem.

Instead of laughing, Rey gave a warm smile. All right. Time for the excuse she was about to give. Hux braced himself. "I love steak," she instead replied, inclining toward him. "I have to work beforehand, but I can bring a change of clothes and you can pick me up here?"

It was a miracle she even said yes to his red hair.

Warm ups done, Hux sighed and reluctantly picked up the Disney book. Simple enough, he supposed, especially given he didn't watch many movies. The songs were simple, yet catchy, and Hux could at least admit to Rey that perhaps this Alan Menkin fellow had a few good ideas up his sleeve. Hell, he might even watch _Beauty and the Beast_ if she wanted to put it on.

Looking at his phone, he realized he'd been playing and reminiscing so long that Rey was expected home in a little over an hour. Usually he would be on his laptop right now, catching up with e-mails and scheduling meetings for both he and his father. And usually being behind would stress him out to no end, but this playing, while it had brought up so many terrible memories, it also sparked this want, this need to come home and use this as the tool to wind down. After Rey, that outlet was usually sex, but this was strangely as equally cathartic.

He was playing "Moonlight Serenade" when Rey walked in, and she was oddly quiet as she removed her work shoes in the foyer and placed her keys silently in the bowl beside the door, rather than tossing them in there. She didn't even stop him from playing, waiting until he finished the song before she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and kissed the top of his head. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of something that sounds so beautiful," she complimented. As she pulled away, her hands rested on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. "You're even less tense than usual."

"Am 1?" He hadn't noticed. He was always in a constant state of stress, alleviated only by her presence. And now, this instrument. He heard Rey's phone buzz a few times. "Is someone really trying to contact you this late?"

She shrugged it off, stepping back. "It's probably just Finn asking if I got home okay." He heard the clicking of her keyboard before her phone buzzed a few more times.

"With that many texts?" Really, Hux didn't care about associating with or knowing Rey's… two friends (it was just the couple, right? He didn't remember her introducing him to anyone else), but at this hour, it seemed a little off.

"Mister jealous, are we?" she teased, pulling Hux up from the bench. "I'll have you know I told the customer hitting on me that I'm deeply in love with my successful ginger boyfriend."

"You are so full of it," he retorted with a playful eye roll, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to lead her to the bedroom. She always had the slight scent of coffee clinging to her clothes, an intoxicating smile with everyone who came up to the counter. Hux always wondered how she could still keep her eyes on him, when in this city there seemed to be no shortage of attractive men.

"You might believe it someday, I'm sure." Rey kissed his cheek before sitting on the four-poster bed, stripping down to her underpants. "My incorrigible, stubborn, talented as hell boyfriend."

They settled on the king-sized mattress, Rey plugging her phone in to charge, Hux setting an alarm to give him ample time to get to work the next morning. Perhaps this would be their routine: she'd come home to the sound of him playing, make dinner, make love if there was time or passion, bed. Hux didn't hate the thought of it.

Rey's phone buzzed once more as she kissed Hux good night, but she didn't answer it.

Hux didn't think twice about it, comforted with the fact that she let him open up to her without much consequence. Maybe playing again wasn't such a terrible idea, after all.

 **I'm definitely hoping to explore more of Hux's relationships with his father, his mother, Rae Sloane, and Maratelle a lot more in the future, both in this story and in canon. Like, it all just interests me to no end.**

 **See you all next time! As always, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated.**


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